


LAND

by serencillata



Category: Borderlands
Genre: Alternate Universe, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Cisgender, Implied Past History, Implied Relationships, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-30
Updated: 2016-11-30
Packaged: 2018-09-03 07:17:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8702800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serencillata/pseuds/serencillata
Summary: Rhys is the doctor that manages to save Handsome Jack, that manages to give him a body and new life when the vault hunters have taken it all away.And Rhys is the doctor that is going to repeat the mistakes that leads to Handsome Jack's death, over and over.





	

**Author's Note:**

> [Inspiration.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=evYSZhK-jCw)
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> I haven't written for Blands in years, eh? Not literal years, metaphorical years.

For a moment, he can’t really believe it. His body twitches, blood gurgling at his mouth and he – and he—and he has prosthetic arms. An entire prosthetic body, when Jack thinks about it. Yet here he lies, blood at his mouth and pooling all around him, mixing with the fluids put in him to keep his prosthetics working and to keep him alive.

Rhys sits across him, dressed up all _formal_ in his damn suit, the doctor and miracle worker that has made his body for him – something perfect that not even Nakayama can replicate, with a whole transfer of conscious to flesh and metal, too.

Yet, he doesn’t seem all that alarmed when he comes down to see Jack a broken heap once more in the blood-soaked sands of Pandora. It is only Rhys that comes down to visit him in all white with a sleeve gone, and golden fingers rest on Jack’s head.

He strokes synthetic hair, and Jack glares at him and tries to reach out to him with the left hand he doesn’t have. “Wow.” Rhys says, something like awe in his voice as well as a sort of odd disappointment. “Got to finally meet my hero outta work.”

There’s something off about his voice, and Jack struggles to try and sit up despite the raging pain in his body. Rhys doesn’t stop him, doesn’t seem all that perturbed that Jack is even trying to sit up in a condition like this.

“What… _the fuck…_ happened…” Jack chokes out, memory hazy and broken and— _damn it,_ isn’t having an artificial brain supposed to help him with his memory? Rhys—Rhys has mostly a fake one, mixed with actual grey matter, yet he has no problem recalling or remembering.

Why does he have this flaw then? He’s perfect. He’s _God._ This isn’t what is supposed to happen—

Why is he dying again?

“You died again.” Rhys says simply, though he seems so very tired. “No bandits’re here. You… you know why, Jack?” He bares his teeth at Rhys in an attempt to intimidate him, but then it hits him—

There are no bandits around. If – if there are any, then Jack is sure that he should have been dead hours ago. No bandit on this godforsaken planet will ever let Handsome Jack live—especially not if he’s so close to death this time, and vault hunters aren’t needed to finish him off.

Why is he dying? It took six vault hunters to take him down. Who has done this to him?

He is forced out of his thoughts when Rhys bends down and presses a kiss against his forehead – his skin is smooth in this body, no scar, and no reason to hide – and smears blood and fluid against his soft lips. “What?” Jack chokes out, and it hits him that he isn’t even dead yet. With all the blood he has lost, with all that he has bled, why isn’t he dead?

Unwanted and uncalled for panic rushes through him then, and he clasps at Rhys with barely any of his right hand and he chokes and gasps. “What in the—in the— _in the fuck’d you do?_ ” He manages to wheeze out, eyes wide with anger and pain and Rhys stares at him apologetically.

“Don’t worry about it.” Rhys says, his shoulders slumping in shame and gaze looking far, far off into the distance. Jack lets himself fall down again, the strain of sitting up finally getting to him and it hits him then that the sand beneath him is clean. Even Rhys is clean, no red or green smearing pure white, and only Jack is the one who is drowning in his own fluids.

He brings up his cybernetic hand – funny, Jack doesn’t remember Hyperion having models that look _that_ sleek – and brings up some sort of menu.

With one more pained, apologetic look that is sent Jack’s way, Rhys speaks. “Begin recursion.” Jack gasps aloud then, memories flooding him and he reaches out with his left—with his left hand, rage and hatred swirling something awful in his gut.

“Not—not again— _Rhys! Not a…_ ” But his words fade away like he does when his sight is wrapped up in blue and white, and Rhys lets his arms fall down as the world turns to blocks and cubes.

Rhys is the last to follow, like always.

**Author's Note:**

> [My tumblr.](https://www.starrelia.tumblr.com)


End file.
